Page 23 of City of Liars

“They’re like Lorelai’s parents,” she said in a rush. “The country club, the DAR membership, the caring what people think. My dad even went to Yale, and it kills him that I chose Duke instead. They had expectations for me, and then I married Gray and everything went to crap. Now they’re trying to shape Chloe into the daughter they always wanted.”

Her hands left her jeans, shaking fingers twining in the red waves of her hair instead. “But most of all—they can be vicious. They’re like…like a riptide beneath the surface of a gorgeous Caribbean sea. One second you’re enjoying a margarita on a beach float, and the next, you’re fighting for your life.”

My heart clenched. Where had the confident woman I’d met the other night gone? I hadn’t even met her parents yet, and I hated that they could do this to her. “Look,” I said, taking one of her trembling hands. They were cold, her fingers clammy. “I promise, all right? I won’t embarrass you. I won’t make things worse. I’ll be on my best behavior. Believe me. Please?”

Liv opened her mouth to reply as the tinkling of the piano cut off and a little girl came barreling around the corner, red hair flying.

“Mom, Grandma says I can have—” She stopped short, her eyes flicking from Liv to me and back again. I’d dropped Liv’s hand the moment footsteps sounded in the hallway, but that didn’t stop the girl from giving me the once-over. Man, she was the spitting image of her mother, except for those dark eyes I assumed she’d inherited from the aggravating ex. But the wavy, thick red-gold hair, the heartbreaking bone structure, the arched eyebrows and pale skin—all of that was Liv, in miniature.

Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me that a side effect of crashing Sunday brunch with the Carter-Brentwoods would mean meeting Liv’s daughter. That was a privilege I was pretty sure was reserved for the ninth or tenth date, not the weekend after a one-night stand.

The girl shifted from one foot to the other, as if trying to contain the spurt of energy that had sent her sprinting into the foyer. “Sorry, Mom, I didn’t hear the bell. Did it even ring? Also, are you our guest?”

Liv seemed at a loss for words, so I gave it a try, hoping I wasn’t screwing things up even worse. “You must be Chloe. I’m Theo, a friend of your mom’s. She invited me to brunch.”

Chloe assessed me. “Nice to meet you,” she said with perfect politeness. “Mom said you played piano. Are you any good?”

“Chloe!” Liv sounded horrified.

“What? I’m just asking. Maybe he’ll play for Grandma. She always says her piano’s going to waste.” The latter was delivered in an upper-crust Northern accent that was clearly meant to be an imitation of her great-grandmother. I bit back a laugh.

“I’m not bad,” I said, when I could trust my voice.

“Anyway, Grandma says I can have her cashmere scarf with the little flowers on it.” Chloe bounced on her toes. “The one Great-Great-Grandpa Charles gave her. But she said I had to ask you first, to be sure. So can I?”

Great-Great-Grandpa Charles. The male half of the couple who had stolen my great-aunt. Five minutes into Carter territory, and somehow, the man had already come up.

Liv’s eyes darted to me. “Let’s talk about this later.”

“But she wants to give me the scarf now!”

“The scarf will still be there after brunch.” Liv squared her shoulders, taking on an air of calm authority that would’ve been right at home in a corporate boardroom. “And we have a guest. Why don’t we go introduce Theo to everyone?”

“Fine. But I won’t forget.” Giving me one last look, Chloe skipped from the room.

“Sorry,” Liv mouthed as we followed in her wake. “She’s a bit of a hurricane.”

“Don’t apologize,” I whispered back, glancing down the hall to make sure she couldn’t overhear. “Yeah, she’s a force of nature, like her mother. But I like it.”

I’d spoken without thinking, but apparently this had been the right thing to say. Liv broke into a wide, natural smile, and the ball of tension inside me unraveled a bit.

As we walked down the hallway to the living room, I took in the richly hued Persian rugs, the walls hung with massive pieces of original artwork, the antique furniture. The air smelled of lemon polish, overlaid with the scents of bacon and maple syrup.

“And here we are,” Liv said as we rounded a corner. “My parents are in the kitchen, I think, but my grandma…”

Huge windows overlooked a sprawling backyard, complete with the obligatory magnolia tree and tire swing. Logs crackled in a tiled fireplace. There were overstuffed bookshelves, cozy armchairs, a cream-colored couch littered with pillows. In the corner, a Steinway piano. And at it, sitting on a bench with her back to me⁠—

She was tiny, so much smaller than I’d imagined. She had a purple scarf draped over her shoulders and her hair was the silver-white of the moon. Chloe ran up to her, and then she turned, getting to her feet. She smiled in welcome, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

I scrutinized her face. No pictures of Lily existed; having photographs made was expensive back then, and my family had been too poor for that. I’d seen photos of Ella, both before and after her disappearance, but the only evidence that Lily resembled her had been May Dressler’s word. It had been one of the sticking points in the trial.

At ninety-three, Ella Carter bore little resemblance to the small girl in those ancient photos…or to my grandmother. Her face, lined and wrinkled, gave no clues away.

I could have passed her on the street a thousand times and never known that nearly a century ago, her disappearance shaped the destinies of two families.

My greeting froze in my throat. A drop of sweat trickled down my spine.

This was crazy. I’d invaded this woman’s house and was about to lie to her. The Carters might be guilty, but now, so was I. Way to make a first impression.